


Memoria

by hargrave



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kingdom Hearts AU, Knights - Freeform, One Shot, Short One Shot, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-22 23:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19138903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hargrave/pseuds/hargrave
Summary: Xehanort had beat and danced whatever desire to succeed Vanitas was holding, leaving only a perfectly trained child, so very easy to control with the mere squeeze of a finger, a soldier through and through. (One shot)





	Memoria

**Author's Note:**

> An excerpt from personal writing where keyblade wielders are Knights and Scala Ad Caelum is a Kingdom ruled by Xehanort and his son, Ansem.

The large hand wrapped around his is rough from years of use, skin a little too warm, clearly strong if the man’s grip is anything to go by. Each squeeze is a cue in some way. For some time, Vanitas could not tell one way or another, but he’s long since been able to read Xehanort’s prompts like a well-loved book. If he presses in with the first two fingers it means to switch directions, the last two tell him to slow down, and the older man’s entire hand is saved only for the times in which Vanitas is on thin ice. Too many of the latter, and he’s bound to get a swift kick in the shins alongside some cruel words.

Waltzing with Xehanort has always been like this. Once upon a time, Vanitas couldn’t understand what was so important about such an act, now he realizes that each calculated yet flowing movement is a lesson. He learned how to dodge, parry, to strike all from dancing. It honed every muscle in his body, and it taught him the patience one needs to outlast and outperform his opponents.

Xehanort told him he’d get it someday, and Vanitas did, more so than he will ever admit.

He both loathes and cherishes the moments that he gets with the King. The man has never been a pleasant person, but when he dances he’s an entirely different one. It’s like a part of him that had once been Vanitas’ age, still so full of hopes and dreams, comes out to take the lead. 

Vanitas sometimes wonders what it’s like to have such things. Other times he realizes that they’re useless in the grand scheme of things, mere remnants of a normal life that he had lost upon arriving to this castle when he was only six years old. Xehanort had beat and danced whatever desire to succeed Vanitas was holding, leaving only a perfectly trained child, so very easy to control with the mere squeeze of a finger, a soldier through and through.

Now, at the still young age of thirteen, Vanitas is informed that he must be the one to train the young prince in the ways of the keyblade. Xehanort claims he is too old, which is bullshit, and no one else in the castle has control over the mythical weapon. It’s just him and some eight year old brat who is now, apparently, _his_ responsibility. 

Were Vanitas able to, he would say no. Instead he nods underneath the opaque black glass of his domed helmet, accepting the duty without so much as a word.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he will begin to teach young Riku, just like how Xehanort had taught him, to be the best keyblade wielder in all of Scala ad Caelum. The responsibility should be thrilling, to have someone all his own to mold, but Vanitas has always been a follower instead of a leader. He has no idea how he’s supposed to direct the boy, except for in the same ways that Xehanort had done for him.

The next morning he waits in the quiet courtyard. Out comes a silver-haired youth, still quite short, his face round from baby fat. He’s led by King Ansem, who just took over from Xehanort less than a year ago, his small hand in the man’s much larger one.

A memory comes at the sight. Rough hands hold Vanitas’ small ones, their grip too harsh, pulling him one way and then another. Xehanort scolds him, tells him he must have two left feet, but he doesn’t give up. No matter how irritated the man gets, he continues until Vanitas gets it right once, twice, and every time there-after. That diligence that was an annoyance – as a kid all Vanitas wanted to do was eat and rest – is now a boon, and the only gift that Vanitas has to offer.

Ansem and Riku stop in front of him. One stares up, turquoise eyes wide, while the other glares down at him with a look that would scare a normal person. It’s a good thing that Vanitas has long since stopped being both normal and a person. He bows, the gesture exaggerated and more of an instinct than a way of showing respect, “My liege.”

That orange gaze stays on him, cold, calculating. Vanitas can feel it through the top of his helmet, even as his eyes linger on the gravel below them. “Riku,” the voice is so deep it could cause earthquakes, “This is who will be teaching you to use your keyblade. Make sure you listen well.”

“Yes, Ansem.”

Riku’s tone is soft and uncertain. Vanitas can tell from looking at him that he does not want to be left alone here, but without voicing his opinion Ansem is quick to leave the two of them. It’s just him and the quiet child, Riku staring into the black screen covering his face while Vanitas gets lost in those big eyes.

What is he supposed to do?

Vanitas’ face scrunches as time ticks by. All of his training seems to have disappeared, melting away in that sky-like stare, leaving only one thing – the basis of all of his training, the root that taught him and made him who he is today.

Without a single word Vanitas extends his gloved hand, waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! There may or may not be more excerpts posted from this personal writing. Not sure if it will ever be a full story.


End file.
